Notes From a River Rat: Saying the wrong things

Wednesday

Mar 21, 2012 at 12:01 AMJul 1, 2012 at 10:48 AM

My big sister had a birthday party back in her high school days when I was a little brat brother.

Stephen Reynolds

My big sister had a birthday party back in her high school days when I was a little brat brother. I recall a particular guy being really nice to me, so, later I said something to her about him, that I liked him. She said he was a “drip,” which in those days meant “nerd” or worse. Well, who knows? Maybe he turned out to be Bill Gates or somebody like that.
The ugly ducklings do sometimes turn out to be swans. I recall this girl when I was a sophomore in high school whom you wouldn’t look at a second time – a scrawny duckling. A couple of years later, I was in line with a date at the Sunshine movie theater in Albuquerque and this really nice looking girl (a 10 as I recall, naturally) says to me, “Hi Steve!”
It was HER.
Hoo-boy! What a looker! But she was with some jock who was giving me a nasty look, and I figured she was destined for something better than I could afford to give her. Besides, I didn’t want to get beat up.
Along this same line, many years later up in Anchorage I had this secretary who was a bit of a round young lady who wore a mini skirt ... sort of an embarrassment to all when she bent over. A few years after she left, I’m sitting in the courthouse hall waiting to testify on a criminal case or something when this lady walks by and drops all her books in front of me, just like in high school or even junior high. So, I jump up to help, of course, and she says, “Don’t you remember me?”
And I realize it’s my little chubby secretary.
Well, I stuttered, trying to come up with the right words – she was now slim and trim – and I couldn’t think of anything to say except, “Wow, you sure aren’t f-f-f-fat any more!”
Which I didn’t actually say ... I don’t know what I said, but it was something not much better than that. I can’t always trust myself to say the right thing at the right time.
And that reminds me, not only do we say the wrong thing sometimes, but when I think about it, it seems we go through life, most of us, without taking a serious look at the plight of others.
I visited with an old aunt of mine sometime back, and I realized, sitting there talking to her, how fast life can get past us to where our bodies refuse to cooperate with what our minds want us to do. When I’d seen her earlier, she was still the same active person I always knew, and then I realized it had been several years since I visited, and that I hadn’t been so good about keeping in touch with the people I care about. My aunt had always been a solid example of patience and stability we could look up to in what was otherwise a sometimes sadly dysfunctional family. I realized also that I never told her that I looked at her in that way, and knew too that I likely never would – feeling that the sensitivity of that comment, coming from her nephew, might embarrass her. So, I’ll likely go on as I’ve done before, sometimes not letting people know how I feel about what they’ve meant to me and to others, or maybe not being able to say it in the right way.
Several years back an acquaintance of ours asked me how old I thought she was. I believe I could do a lot better now of answering that one. Back then I said, with the intent of being nice, “Well, I know you’re over 40, but you sure don’t look it.”
Her face clouded over – she was 38. So, tell me how I could have gotten out of that predicament? Should I have told her that I was just kidding ... that I knew all along she couldn’t have been a day over 38?
Live and learn. By the time you’re older than a cedar post you might think you’ve figured it all out. But you likely haven’t.

– Stephen Reynolds hides out not far from Montague along the Little Shasta River

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